


never mistaken his truth for a lie

by venndaai



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: FTM pregnancy implied, Multi, Trans Male Character, canonical miscarriage (foreshadowed)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 05:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16111808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: “The first time I asked the gods for something impossible,” Eugenides said, “I was thirteen.”





	never mistaken his truth for a lie

“The first time I asked the gods for something impossible,” Eugenides said, “I was thirteen.”

Because he was forcing himself to look at Costis’s eyes, and not the ceiling or the crackling fire in the fireplace, he saw Costis blink and then narrow his eyes to stare at him. Eugenides stared back, and then burst out laughing. “Are you actually trying to figure out if the gods granted my wish?” he asked, between giggles.

Costis had turned brick red and was very pointedly staring at the floor now. “Uh,” he said eloquently. “Well, there is the story of Iphisa and Lanthis. Do they tell that one in Eddis?”

“No,” Eugenides said, “but I’ve heard it. And there are similar stories in Eddis.”

“If your gods can hold you up in the air, surely they can do anything,” Costis said, and then belatedly realized this might not be the most tactful thing to say. “I mean-”

HIs king waved an arm dismissively at him. “I didn’t even believe in them,” he said. “And, well, they didn’t grant me my stupid wish, so I decided there wasn’t any point in trying to believe them. But, honestly, Costis, I found out later it’s even less fun when the gods do answer.”

Costis was still looking at the floor, at the round flat stones peeking out from under the luxurious rug that kept the warmth inside the king’s bedroom even on the coldest days of winter. It must be a lot colder up in the mountains right now, he thought, mind wandering as he tried to organize his words. “Your mother was a thief,” he said. He didn’t know much about the Eddisian royal family, but he’d made an effort to find out more, lately. “And your queen- everyone says she wears trousers and short hair, like a man.”

“She does whatever she wants,” Eugenides said. “And so do I.” He took another swallow of wine. “We Eddisians are strange like that.”

“Well, that’s what I mean,” Costis said, fording onwards like a man wading through chest-high water. “Eddis isn’t like Attolia. You didn’t need to-” He stopped. Tried to find solid footing again. “Your Majesty, why are you telling me this?”

Carefully, Eugenides set his goblet down on the side table by his bed, and then slid off the bed in a graceful yet abrupt motion to thump down onto the floor next to Costis. Costis could feel his king’s breath, hot and heavy with wine. “What did you think I’d summoned you here for, this late in the evening?”

Costis knew what his fellow guards had assumed. What most of the court probably assumed. He’d learned not to assume anything when it came to his king, and had tried to prepare himself for more assassins, or a secret assignment, or for it just to be the king’s new way of messing with him.

The king was leaning close, looking at him through ridiculously long eyelashes, and somehow the pedestrian explanation was the more insane one.

Costis heard himself say, “Does the Queen know?” and wasn’t sure which part he was asking about. Maybe he was just using the Queen’s name as a shield. But a shield against what? He hadn’t let himself think about this- had laughed off the suggestions of it- but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel something more than loyalty for his king.

“She knows everything,” Eugenides said, and sighed.

 

* * *

 

_“Gen-” Sophos started to ask another question, but Eugenides interrupted him._

_“No,” he said, “not Gen. Eugenides from now on. I never, never want to hear Gen again in my life.”_

 

He was Gen for the first thirteen years of his life. Named after his grandfather, and after the god of Thieves. Eugenia to the recordbooks, to his aunts and uncles, but Gen to his father, to his mother until the god dropped her off the roof, and Gen always to Helen.

Then he spent a night in the temple curled up in the corner of the shrine to Hephestia, and she hadn’t answered, and he’d walked out Eugenides, Queen’s Thief. He’d had to inform his Queen of that, but she’d agreed with him.

 

* * *

 

“How long have you known?” Attolis asked.

“I don’t know,” Sounis said. “Maybe when Pol tried to take your shirt off to wash you, the first day. Or when the Magus hit you with his riding crop and you-” He stopped. The memories were uncomfortable in his head, neither good nor bad but overwhelmed by the unnamable feeling he’d had in those moments, of strange recognition.

Attolis was silent. Sounis put out his hand, and in the dark of the tent, Attolis took it. For this brief moment they didn’t have to be kings, just people, without names or countries.

 

* * *

 

“Say it,” the queen snapped. “I know you’re thinking it, so just- say it.”

The king swallowed. “If you know what I’m going to say, then what is the point in me-”

“It’s not going to work,” she said, cutting him off. Her voice flat, and cracked at the edges. Her hair undone. “It’s been years, I should accept that something is-wrong.”

“Sometimes it takes a long time,” the king said, trying to be soothing.

“I don’t have a long time,” she reminded him, “I am past my prime and our kingdom is losing stability.”

The king scratched his head with his hook, so casual that it immediately put the queen on edge, as did a certain relaxation in his stance. It was all an act with him. But she couldn’t resent it, because she was all an act, too.

“I still think you’re wrong,” he said. “But fine. I’ll do it.”

She understood what he was saying immediately, but still stared at him in angry perplexity because she didn’t know what else to do. “You will not,” she said.

“It might even be better this way,” the king said. “It might have a slight chance of looking like me, though I'm sure half the court will think it's a bastard anyway.” He stared into space. “We’ll have to fake an extended illness, but that’s manageable. And of course there’s the question of the father. I’d ask Costis, but none of his relatives look anything like either of us-”

The queen turned away from him, and closed her eyes, and clenched her fists. The kingdom does not come before everything, she wanted to say, and did not. After all she had done to Eugenides, all they had done to each other, she could not now say, _This will hurt you and I do not want you hurt_ _._ “There are other ways.”

“Irene,” he said. “Look at me.”

She did not, until his fingers brushed her face.

“It won’t be so bad,” Eugenides said. “I promise.”


End file.
